


Breathe Fire to Keep You Safe

by memoriesofrain



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: BAMF Dorian, BAMF Dorian Pavus, Bull wants his kadan to save himself, Dorian breathes fire, Dorian protects the Iron Bull, Dorian will fight to keep his amatus safe, Graphic Description, Iron Bull Feels, Iron Bull Has A Dragon Kink, POV Dorian Pavus, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Protective Dorian Pavus, Protective Iron Bull, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, about burning faces off, they both want to keep each other safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 03:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12050475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memoriesofrain/pseuds/memoriesofrain
Summary: He sees the blade connect with Bull's head, sees him fall to the ground, the Red Templar standing above him his sword drawn back. As if Dorian is going to let Bull die, parish the thought.OR"I can't let you die." with Adoribull





	Breathe Fire to Keep You Safe

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt sent to me on tumblr and I had quite a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it!

The blade slides through his flesh in one fell swoop, but he doesn’t waver. He can’t. Not when he has something precious to protect. He grabs the soldier’s wrist halting him from pulling his sword out of his gut. He feels the agonizing draw of metal against his tissue. In the back of his mind he prays that the sword missed his organs, it’s always so messy to deal with wounds like that.

He doesn’t have enough mana to use time magic, too much concentration involved. He can’t devote himself to the task while trying to keep his captive immobile. So he does the next best thing he can think of: fire.

He concentrates on gathering power to his neck, channeling the Fade through the column of his throat instead of the conduit that usually rests in his hands. He blocks out the harsh cries around him and the spittle hitting his face from the struggling man in front of him. Instead, he acknowledges the blistering heat that encompasses his esophagus and lets out a roar.

The flames sear his tongue, no precautions taken unlike in the bedroom a fortnight ago. His lips feel chapped and split from the heat, but it does the job. The man’s face bubbles at the heat, his screams ringing in Dorian’s ears and he feels righteous. He watches the fires swallow the man and begin to melt his skin from his bones, but he stares on.

The smell in other circumstances might’ve made him hungry had he not known what the source was.

He doesn’t get to watch the man die in agony because an axe takes the man’s head from his shoulders. He watches dispassionately as it bounces twice. The soldier's hair now shriveled remains flaking away.

The sword sits heavier in his belly now that nothing is supporting the handle to prevent it from shifting. Dorian makes an attempt to steady the hilt but his hands are shaking. The handle slick with blood that has managed to gush from the wound when the sword had moved.

His hearing is muffled, like he’s got cotton stuffed into the openings like he'd done as a child when his father and mother would fight. He looks around the battlefield. He doesn’t see any noticeable red Templars or their demonic entourage in his line of vision. He does see Kariha standing tall with Sera. As their Inquisitor should. He swears he can make out her victorious laugh, but that could very well be his imagination.  

He longs to turn around, to get a good look at the man he protected to see if he’s okay. That gut-wrenching terror that had struck him when he saw Bull go down from a strike to his face. Was his eye alright? Did he manage to protect him? He was still alive right?

Before he can think much longer on it, large hands grab his unsteady body and guide him into a sitting position. The man is speaking in a tongue Dorian knows he should understand but the meanings scramble in his head. Blinking furiously to try and clear the black spots that are creeping into his vision, he concentrates on the man talking. Gray skin with large protruding horns. He smiles.

“Amatus,” Dorian mumbles. His voice is rough like grating stones and there's a metallic taste hitting his tongue. He wants to say it again and again as he reaches a shaky hand to cup Bull’s face. There’s blood dripping in a steady stream down his face from a wound that bisects his brow and extends across the bridge of his nose. He lets out a shuddering sigh of relief. Bull’s eye was fine.

When Dorian tells him as such, but he can’t understand why Bull isn’t expressing the same relief that he is over the fact that his eye is safe. He tries to get Bull to understand but he’s gently shushed. He feels an uncomfortable pressure being applied to his stomach. He whines in discomfort and makes a feeble attempt to get away, but the pressure follows. One of Bull’s hands immediately begins to stroke his hair and he relaxes at the touch. Before he can get too comfortable, Bull’s hand is lightly patting his cheek. He frowns up at Bull, now managing to hear bits and pieces of what he’s saying. Kadan comes out heavier than he’s used to hearing it, mixed with wide eyes and shaking hands. Or is he shaking? He tilts his head so he can lay it against Bull’s chest and lavishes in the rapid thumping beneath his ear. So much life beating in his chest, exactly how he’s supposed to be.  

“Kadan, Dorian,” Bull begged, one hand pressing harder on his gut, his other tapping a staccato against his cheek. “Keeping talking to me okay, don’t go to sleep yet. I know you’re tired and you’ve earned it, but just wait a little longer. Kariha and Sera have gone to get a healer, they should be back soon. Weren’t too far from camp. Once you’re healed I’ll let you sleep as long as you want, alright? Won’t even jostle you awake when the sun’s high in the sky.”

“You’re rambling,” Dorian noted, “I’m the… the rambler.” He hears a wet snort above him and he feels his lips quirk in an attempted roguish grin. “I’ll be fine, I may.... not be too well versed… in healing magic but… it should be enough to… to slow the bleeding.” His tongue feels thick in his mouth and his throat is screaming to be silent. The slight droop in Bull’s shoulders when he gives the information away makes it all worth it.  

Despite the reassurance he gives Bull, the sword, which he finally remembers is still inside him, remains where it is. He doesn’t mention this to Bull, not when he sees the tightness in his eyes and the tense line of his lips. He wishes he could talk more but his mouth isn’t cooperating and the pesky spots in his vision have returned with vengeance.

“Why?”

The question startles Dorian and he tries to focus on Bull the best he can. He makes an inquiring hum that he hopes sounds nonchalant. He can’t tell if he managed it or not, of course Bull would use his Ben-Hassrath training now.

“Why’d you jump in front of me? I’ve taken stronger hits than that, you know I can brush that off like it’s nothing. I could’ve taken it. I could’ve… why did you do it, Kadan?” The term of endearment softens the interrogation. Bull isn’t mad, not really, just concerned. “I didn’t need you to do that, I would’ve been fine—“

“Would you’ve been?” Bull’s rant comes to an abrupt halt. Perhaps Bull was sure of himself, but Dorian had seen the trajectory of the blade. “It looked…” He turns his head to cough out a gob of blood that had welled up from the blisters and broken skin that's inside of his mouth and esophagus. “… like he was going… for your heart.”

“He _did_ get my heart.”

His brows furrow before a soft fluttering in his chest settles comfortably over him. That’s right, he thinks with a tender smile tucked into the crook of his mouth, _Kadan_. He always forgets the romanticism associated with the word, not that Bull would admit it. Perhaps one day, but it’s a work in progress.

“Bull, I can’t let you die.” Not now, not when Dorian feels more fulfilled than all his research has made him feel. Not when nights of reckless abandon above the tavern, with their sweat mixing as the dichotomy of their skin paints pictures of union, could disappear and leave him stranded in smoke and tantalizing visions from the Fade promising the return of such wonder. Not when roaring laughter and a warm hand with missing fingers fills his life with more joy and comfort than he’d care to admit.

“I can’t let you die, Dorian,” Bull urged, as if Dorian didn’t understand. Preposterous to think so, but he doesn’t blame the Qunari. Bull hasn’t settled into being Tal-Vashoth quite yet, he’s used to being a tool, something useful but easy enough to replace. He doesn’t realize that Dorian is almost positive his life would deteriorate without him.

He takes a deep breath. “So, we both won’t die then.” Seeing the perturbed expression on Bull’s face he rolls his eyes. “Yet. Andraste’s tits, Bull, I… wasn’t talking about necromancy.”

Bull lets out a stilted laugh and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. It’s wet and tacky from Bull’s head wound, but he lets out a pleased hum nonetheless. He hears the heavy beat of hooves approaching quickly and knows that Kariha is back with help.

And with that, he lets his eyes fall closed and slips into unconsciousness.

 

The Iron Bull sits in front of the fire in easy silence. The healers had cleaned his face and a bandage smothered in some kind of elfroot poultice slapped onto the wound. The healers kicked him out of the medical tent to let them work, but he knows Dorian will be fine. Has to be. The healers said he’d be alright in a couple of days, the sword having hit muscle and tissue and only grazing his guts. Most of the damage was in his throat from the sudden onslaught of fire he’d conjured without taking the right precautions.

He felt an appreciative rumble escape his throat. As much as it had pained him to see Dorian hurt because of him, it was also invigorating to see the man defend him with such ferocity. Bull’s heart was a formidable man.

His _Kadan._ His _ataashi_.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you have time, I would love to hear what you thought of this fic. Did it sound alright? Was there enough emotion? Did it sound forced? What did you like or dislike about it?
> 
> Also, sorry for the lack of story updates/new stories. My health has taken a turn for the worse over the past couple of months and I haven't gotten much better. Hopefully I get better soon though! 
> 
> If you have a prompt you'd like me to write, just send it to [cakelanguage](http://cakelanguage.tumblr.com/ask) on tumblr


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